


Have You Tried Turning It Off and Back On Again?

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's not expecting to hear from Clarke Griffin over summer vacation, but apparently she needs his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bellamy's not expecting a call from Clarke Griffin over summer vacation. The two of them aren't exactly buddies--honestly, he didn't even know she had his phone number (he might have gotten hers off Facebook. Not in a stalker way. Just in case of emergency)--and there's no possible work reason she could be calling him. He considers not picking it up for a minute, wondering if maybe it's a butt-dial or something, but curiosity gets the best of him. It's not like he's got anything else going on today.

"Hello?"

"Bellamy? It's Clarke. Griffin. From school?"

"Hey, Clarke," he says, feeling a smile grow on his face. He definitely misses her over vacations. He doesn't have enough pretty girls who give him shit in his life. And it's kind of adorable that she thinks he doesn't know who she is. "How's your summer going?"

"Um. Weird." There's a pause and she says, "You're good with kids, right?"

Bellamy lets out a surprised laugh. "Sure, I guess. So are you. We're teachers."

She lets out a long sigh. "Yeah, uh. I realize that this is incredibly awkward. But I have this baby."

"Wow, you move fast," he can't help teasing. "Like, faster than I realized was humanly possible. I saw you a month ago. But hey, congratulations. Who's the father?"

"My best friend's husband," she says dryly.

"This sounds complicated. You're lucky I've been spending my summer watching Spanish soap operas. I can definitely figure out what happened. Is he some sort of government agent? Is there an experimental fertility serum involved?"

There's a pause and then she says, "You're watching Spanish soap operas?"

"I'm getting the impression you're calling to ask me for a favor, so I'd stop making fun of my hobbies if I were you."

She sighs again. "My best friend's mom is sick, so she and her husband are in the hospital and they left the baby with me, but I've never taken care of a baby. Before he was born, I'd never even _held_ a baby. I have no idea what I'm doing. But you have a little sister?"

"Anyone with siblings is automatically good with babies?" he asks, amused.

"No, but she has a baby, right? I've seen pictures of it on your desk. Please, Bellamy? I just need some pointers. Raven's got so much on her plate and I don't want her worrying about me on top of everything."

She sounds tired and on the verge of tears, which is a new thing for Clarke Griffin, in his experience. "Yeah," he says, sobering. "Of course. Just text me your address, okay?"

"Thank you," she says, her voice full of relief. He hears a noise in the background, a baby starting to gurgle, and she says, "Oh fuck, he's waking up. Please come soon."

He bites back a smile. "On my way."

*

Clarke opens the door holding a baby, probably about nine or ten months, with her hair in a messy bun, her eyes wide and somewhat panicked. "Thank god. Hi, Bellamy."

Bellamy grins. "Hey, Clarke. I could get used to you being this happy to see me."

"I'm really sorry for calling you out of the blue like this," she says, words rushing out of her. "I owe you ten rounds of drinks and covering your classroom no questions asked for like the next _year_. Um, come in," she adds. "Sorry. I'm freaking out."

"Really? I couldn't tell. You keep your cool so well." He follows her in, surreptitiously looking around. The house is small and messy; there's an easel in the corner with a work-in-progress and a half-drunk mug of coffee on a pile of books. A small dog, some kind of retriever mix, comes over to sniff him, and Bellamy leans down to scratch behind its ears. "So, what are their names?" he asks, looking up at Clarke.

"The dog is Bailey--girl Bailey--and the baby is Alex. Boy Alex."

"Hi girl Bailey and boy Alex," says Bellamy. He straightens up and smiles. "It's no problem, by the way. I wasn't do anything anyway. The Spanish soap operas will keep."

"You're a very weird guy, Bellamy Blake."

"Thank you," he says cheerfully. "So, what do you need help with?"

She takes a deep breath. "I think he's hungry. I've got a fridge full of breast milk, which I never thought I'd say, I know I have to warm it up, but I don't know how warm. He's going to need a diaper change at some point, and they have cloth diapers, which are great and environmentally friendly and everything, but it still kind of grosses me out on a fundamental level. Also I need to burp him sometimes, right? When do I need to burp him? How can I tell?" Bellamy is laughing softly, can't help it, and she throws him a glare. "Shut up!"

"Okay, first step, you need to breathe. Here, give me the baby."

She looks wary, but puts Alex into his outstretched arms. Bellamy cradles him gently. It's been a long time since O was a baby, but he's got a niece and a godson. He knows the drill. 

"Hi, kiddo," he says, offering Alex his finger to grab. "You giving your Aunt Clarke a hard time?"

"He's actually been pretty good. Better than I expected," Clarke admits, rubbing her eyes. She looks exhausted.

"How's your friend's mom?" he asks, gentle.

"In surgery, last I heard," she says. "Car crash, early this morning. The doctors are optimistic. She's supposed to call in an hour or two."

"You should have called me sooner, he says, putting his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder.

"I almost didn't call you at all."

It's no surprise; they're not friends or anything. She teaches art, he teaches history, there's not a lot of overlap in their schedules. They get together at school functions and for occasional happy hours, but as far as he knew, he liked her a lot more than she liked him. It's hard not to be excited that he might have been wrong. She called him with a _baby emergency_. It's kind of awesome.

"Well, it's a good thing you did," he says. "Because I was bored as shit."

He sees a quick flash of a brief, relieved smile before she schools her face into mock sternness. "Watch your language in front of the baby."

"I'm pretty sure I heard you say something worse when the baby was waking up," he teases. "Come on, let's get him a bottle."

Clarke follows him into the kitchen, looking more than a little lost. Bailey trots after them too, apparently hoping for a treat, but Clarke shoos her outside. "She's very spoiled," she explains.

"I wonder who could have spoiled her," he teases. "Can you hold him while I get this ready?"

"Kind of," she says, making a face. "Wick always tells me I'm doing it wrong."

"Wick?"

"My best friend's husband. He might just be f--screwing with me," she corrects, looking at the baby.

"I'm not sure that's really much better to say in front of a baby. Just, here, I'll show you." He puts the baby back in her arms and moves around behind her. This close, he can smell the shampoo on her hair and feel her warmth against his chest. It's not like he didn't already know he was attracted to Clarke. After all, she's gorgeous and smart and surprisingly cut-throat at bar games, and he's only human. But being in her kitchen, teaching her how to hold a baby, is a level of domesticity and intimacy he never really thought about, and it sends a shock through him, how much he likes it.

That's--good to know, maybe.

Probably not.

He clears his throat. "Yeah, uh, support his head like this, and just don't stress about it. That's the big secret. The first time I held Octavia I was so scared I was going to drop her and she'd die that I cried. My mom thought I was upset about having a sister, she freaked out, it was a mess."

"The things I missed out on as an only child," she says, laughing softly.

"Try not to be too jealous."

"How old were you?"

"Six, when she was born." The talking seems to be helping her relax, so he goes on. "It was rough. I didn't realize just how bad until later. My dad died when I was four and she never remarried, so when she got pregnant again, a lot of people talked." He knows that the correct technical term for Octavia is "half-sister," but he grimaces thinking it. There's no world in which Octavia's anything but all his. "I was beating up people for talking shit about our mom until she died." Clarke's looking worried again, which wasn't what he was going for, so he smiles, sheepish. "That ended up being more of a downer than I thought."

She gives him a small smile. "Thanks for telling me."

The bottle's heated, and Bellamy's grateful for the distraction. "You know how to feed him?" he asks, testing the temperature on his wrist.

"I just put the bottle in his mouth, right?" she asks, dry, and Bellamy grins.

"If you don't need me, I can go," he teases.

"Please don't." There's enough genuine emotion there to make his heart flip over. "I'm--"

He puts his arm around her shoulder and squeezes. "I was kidding. I'm not going anywhere."

*

"So, have you seriously been watching Spanish soap operas all summer?" Clarke asks. They're on her couch, him bouncing Alex on his knee while Clarke watches him like he's some kind of baby wizard. He's never thought his uncle skills were that impressive, but he can't say he minds the admiration.

"I leave them on in the background while I'm working or whatever," he says. "It's fun, and I can pretend I still know Spanish."

"I didn't know you ever knew Spanish."

"Study abroad in college. I went to Madrid for junior year."

She laughs softly. "You know, I think I've learned more about you today than I have in the last two years working together."

"Turns out spending time together out of work is a good way to get to know each other." He tickles Alex. "Aside from that, I'm taking some classes, working on getting my master's. And I've been babysitting my niece a lot. My sister and brother-in-law don't get summers off, so they love using me as free childcare during the week."

Clarke lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "So I called you up on one of the days you weren't taking care of a kid this summer to ask you to come take care of a kid," she says. "God, I suck. I'm sorry."

"I would have said no if I didn't want to help. You're cute, Griffin, but not that cute."

She flushes, which is awesome enough to make him not regret saying it.

"What about you? What are you doing with your summer?" he continues, not wanting her to get too embarrassed. He's pretty sure it's actually going well.

"I'm teaching art classes at the Y."

"Seriously? Can't get enough, huh?"

"You're getting a master's, I assume in history. So you're not really one to talk."

"Fair point," he grants. The baby makes a face that Bellamy unfortunately recognizes, and he sighs. "You want to learn how to change a diaper?" he asks Clarke.

"Not at all. But lead the way."

*

They get the diaper changed and the dirty one kind of cleaned--Bellamy doesn't have much experience with cloth diapers either, so there's a lot of googling and retching involved--and the kid falls asleep not long after. There's an awkward moment then, because Clarke might not need him anymore, but he doesn't want to just offer to leave. She might take him up on it.

"You want lunch?" she asks, before he can say anything stupid himself. "I make a mean grilled cheese."

He relaxes immediately. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks."

He follows her back to the kitchen and regales her with plot summaries of his telenovelas while she cooks. By the time the sandwiches are done, she looks actually _happy_ , instead of stressed and worried, and he feels like the most awesome person to have ever lived. "Come on, we can eat outside, it's nice."

There's a little deck in the back, no table, but a couple chairs and a view of her backyard, which is large and tree-filled. "It is nice," he says, watching Bailey chasing her tail around under one of the trees. "And you're not a bad cook. You're pretty good at this hostess thing."

"This is the most adult contact I've had in weeks," she says, smiling at him. "It's the least I can do."

"That's actually kind of sad."

"Thanks," she says, dry. "I had no idea."

"What about your best friend?"

"She has a baby," says Clarke, looking down at her plate with a wistful smile that feels awfully familiar. "Even when I hang out with her, it doesn't really feel like adult contact. It's the baby show. He's adorable and I love him, but--"

"Yeah, I get it," he says. "I miss Octavia sometimes too." 

"So your social life is also sad?"

"Apparently not as sad as yours," he says, with a teasing grin. She shoves him lightly, like they're friends, and his grin widens. "Nothing to be ashamed of. It's hard."

"That was the most patronizing thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, I don't do well with sincerity." He worries his lip and says, "Well, you know. If you ever want an adult to hang out with, call any time. No babies."

"Unless you're babysitting."

"Call any time on weekends or after five on weekdays," he amends. "Better?"

"Much."

They lapse into silence again, but it doesn't feel weird this time. Bellamy finds a ball and throws it for Bailey and Clarke just basks in the sun, easy and companionable. Just two friends hanging out.

Her phone ringing breaks the spell. "Oh, fuck, it's Raven."

"The best friend?"

"Yeah."

"I'll, uh--I'll go check on the baby," he says. "Give you some privacy."

Alex is still asleep, but Bellamy hangs out with him anyway, not wanting to get in the way of what could be an emotional conversation. And, if he's honest, he's kind of guiltily hoping the Clarke's friend won't be home any time soon. Because her mom is in stable shape and just needs someone around to help out, obviously. He rubs his face.

"I'm not wishing any harm on your grandmother," he says tells Alex. "I just want to make that clear."

The baby doesn't wake up, which is just as well. He texts Octavia, just to keep himself from going to see if Clarke is okay, and then starts playing Candy Crush. Which is probably what he'd be doing if he was at home anyway. Summer is awesome.

Of course, Clarke finds him doing that.

"Really?"

"Shut up. How's your friend's mom?"

"Fine. They're on their way back, should be like twenty minutes."

"Oh," he says, a little awkward. "Good. That's--good." He rubs the back of his neck. "He'll probably be asleep until she gets here. I think you're in the clear."

"Yeah," says Clarke. "I really do appreciate you coming over. I owe you one."

He thinks about telling her she can make it up to him with dinner or coffee or something, but it's been so--friendly. Nice. He doesn't want to screw it up hitting on her. He can screw it up hitting on her next time they get drunk together. Something to look forward to.

"Any time," he says. "I'll see you later, Clarke."

She surprises him by giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Seriously. Thanks."

He tries not to grin too much. It would probably be weird. "Seriously. Any time."


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke wasn't exactly expecting to hear from Bellamy. He texted her a couple times after the great babysitting freakout, just to check in, make sure Raven's mom was okay, that she didn't need any additional baby help. It was sweet, which she hadn't really expected from him. Not that he's a jerk--kind of sarcastic and occasionally abrasive, but basically a decent guy, in her experience--but there was a level of genuine concern that she hadn't expected from their previous interactions. And it was nice, if brief.

The call two weeks later is a total surprise.

"Bellamy?"

"Hey, Clarke!" he sounds frazzled. "Look, uh, did you really mean you owed me?"

"Yeah, of course. Did you need something?" she asks, a little wary. She doesn't really know what kind of favor he'd try to cash in on.

"How are you at baking?"

"Baking?"

"Yeah. Because I'm really bad at it."

"I'm fine, I guess. I don't do it that often, but I usually make stuff for the art club bake sales, so--"

"Are you busy right now?"

She's still wearing her pajamas and was planning to spend her day reading trashy young adult novels and possibly ordering Chinese food at some point. She was looking forward to it, but there's no possible universe where it counts as being "busy." 

"It's okay if you are," Bellamy goes on, but he still sounds kind of desperate. "I know it's short notice."

"No, it's fine," she says. She glances around. "Do you have a yard I can put my dog in, or do I need to leave her?"

"Oh, god, yes, please, bring the dog," he says. "You're a _lifesaver_. I'll text you my address. Seriously, I owe you."

She has to smile at that. "No, I owe you, remember? So now we're even."

*

Bellamy's about fifteen minutes away, farther out of town than Clarke is, in a kind of adorable little white house. There's a tree fort in the front, which is simultaneously endearing and confusing. She's definitely going to make fun of him about it. He probably watches Spanish soap operas up there.

He opens the door wearing an actual apron, and there are two children hiding behind him. The younger one's a girl, maybe three or four, and Clarke assumes that's his niece, older than the last pictures she saw in his office. The boy is a year or two older and a total mystery.

"Hi," says Bellamy, scratching the back of his head. Clarke generally considers herself pretty immune to the whole hot dad thing--it's creepier when the hot dads are related to your students--but she has to admit, Bellamy Blake looks really good with kids. "Thanks for--"

"You have a dog!" says the boy, lighting up. He comes out from behind Bellamy's legs, but hesitates. "Is he friendly? Can I pet him?"

"It's a she," says Clarke. "Her name's Bailey. You guys can pet her, but be gentle."

Bailey loves nothing more than being the center of attention, so Clarke lets her off the leash and she flops down on Bellamy's lawn in a state of nearly narcotic bliss and lets the kids rub her belly and tell her how great she is.

"So, you want to tell me what's happening here?" she says, glancing up at Bellamy. He gives her a wry smile.

"That's my niece, Rory, as you probably guessed, and my godson, Neil. I'm babysitting them. It's my sister's birthday tomorrow, so her husband is taking her out today, and Miller and Monty's babysitter got sick at the last minute, so--I'm on double duty. And Rory really wants to surprise her mom with birthday cupcakes."

"And you can't bake."

"Cooking is fine, I'm a good cook. But baking freaks me out."

"That's a weird phobia."

"You're afraid of _babies_ ," he points out, raising his eyebrows.

"Touche." She chews her lip. "Do you have a recipe? Ingredients? What stage are we at with this?"

"We're making the red ones," says Rory, looking up from Bailey. She looks incredibly serious, like red cupcakes are a matter of life and death. "And Uncle Bell says we can make the frosting pink."

"We can, right?" Bellamy murmurs. "That sounded possible."

Clarke has to laugh. "We can," she assures him. "Show me what we're working with."

To his credit, Bellamy has actually gotten a lot done. He has a red-velvet-cupcake recipe printed off, butter and cream cheese on the counter warming to room temperature, and an unnecessarily large variety of bowls and measuring cups lined up.

"I called you from the grocery store," Bellamy admits. "There was just so much stuff I was buying. It was terrifying."

"You did the right thing," she said, patting his arm. "Do you have more aprons?"

Bellamy roots around and finds an apron for her that makes it look like she has Superman's body. It's actually pretty cool, if incredibly dorky.

"Why do you own this?"

"I have a little sister who thinks she's funny." He looks down at the kids, who have left Bailey and are looking responsible and focused with all their might. "Okay, guys, we don't have aprons for you, so you're just wearing these." He holds up what look like old t-shirts and the kids giggle.

"What, I don't get the old t-shirt option?"

Bellamy gives her a smirk. "Any time you want to borrow one of my shirts, all you have to do is ask," he says, and winks. Which is not something that's at all fair to do when they're hanging out with small children. "Okay guys," he says, putting his focus back on his charges. "Wash your hands. I have no idea where that dog's been."

"Hey, my dog is very clean," Clarke protests, following them into the bathroom, but she washes her hands with the rest of them and then sends Bailey outside while Bellamy gets the oven pre-heating and Neil and Rory outfitted in their ratty t-shirts.

Clarke claps her hands together. "Okay, ready?"

All three of them look at her with identical expressions of determination. "Ready."

*

Three hours later, Neil is asleep on Bellamy's couch and Rory is coaching Clarke on how pink the icing needs to be.

"Your mom likes pink?" she asks, amused.

"It matches the cupcakes," says Rory, like Clarke is an idiot. She peers into the bowl. "That's good! And Uncle Bell got sprinkles. Right, Uncle Bell?"

Bellamy's washing dishes, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, showing off his forearms. Clarke's trying not to notice, but it's been a while since she had a significant other, or even got laid, and Bellamy Blake is really kind of unfairly good looking. And sweet with kids. And funny. And--

"We have so many sprinkles," Bellamy confirms. "Don't worry."

"Good." She nods, satisfied. She looks up at Clarke, screwing her face up like she's thinking hard. "Thank you for helping." It's clearly a phrase she's been coached on.

"You're welcome," says Clarke, throwing an amused smile at Bellamy. 

"Tell Mom I remembered," Rory commands him, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah. That was very polite. Good job."

She bounces over to her uncle. "Are they cold enough yet? Can we put icing on?"

"I think Clarke's going to do the icing," he says, looking up at her for confirmation. "To make sure it looks nice. And then once she does the icing, we're on sprinkles."

"So I get to do the boring technical stuff and you're doing the artistic part?" Clarke teases. "That doesn't seem fair."

"You can have one to decorate," says Rory magnanimously. "Since you helped. You too, Uncle Bell. And one for Neil."

Bellamy snorts. "Neil gets half, remember? We're working on sharing," he adds to Clarke, hoisting Rory up onto his back. "Come on, let's go wash our hands again while Clarke does the frosting."

Being an art teacher doesn't actually mean Clarke has any skills with frosting, but she has the Youtube app on her phone, pastry tips, and a ziplock bag, which a quick google search assured her is all she needs. Plus, her and Bellamy's cupcakes as test subjects. Hers is kind of a mess, but his turns out nicely, and the other 22 are practically perfect, if she does say so herself.

Bellamy leans over her shoulder, approving. "Good job. Except for that one."

"That one's mine."

"No way, it's my favorite!" he says, grinning and swiping it. "I'm decorating this one."

"Dork," says Clarke, fond, and he sticks his tongue out.

They really do have an absurd number of sprinkles; Bellamy might have cleared out the entire grocery store. Neil is meticulous, placing each sprinkle like it's a matter of life and death, while Rory favors quantity over quality. Bellamy found a bunch of sprinkles shaped like dinosaurs, which he and Clarke are fighting over.

"I'm telling a _story_ ," she tells him, placing something that looks sort of like a T-Rex. "See, this is the main character--"

"I need as many dinosaurs as possible on this," he says, purposefully jostling her shoulder as she tries to put a stegosaurus down. "The most dinosaurs you can possibly have. I have a dream, Clarke."

"That's the ugliest cupcake I've ever seen," she tells him honestly. "So good job, I guess."

He flicks a sprinkle at her, and it's so-- _fun_. If you'd told her a month ago she'd be decorating cupcakes in Bellamy Blake's kitchen and hoping to end the evening making out on his couch, she would have believed it was theoretically possible, but not that it would ever actually _happen_.

They get the kids' cupcakes boxed up in special tupperware--"You bought special tupperware," she teases, and Bellamy just grins--and wash the icing and flour off their arms and faces. Bellamy gets the kitchen passably clean while Clarke and the kids throw sticks for Bailey in the backyard. It's there that Bellamy's sister finds them. She's lovely, dark hair and pale skin with striking pale eyes, and Clarke feels suddenly nervous. This is probably weird. 

"You're Clarke?" she asks, all smiles. "I'm Octavia." She offers her hand, but Rory is barreling into her before Clarke can shake it. 

"We made you a present! Uncle Bell has it inside. Clarke helped."

Octavia smiles over her daughter's head. "Thanks. You work with Bell, right?"

"Yeah. I owed him a favor."

Octavia raises her eyebrows, amused, and Clarke thinks that might have been the wrong thing to admit to. It sounds a lot more suggestive than it is. "Hm," is all she says, and then Bellamy's coming out. He's still wearing his apron, and it's adorable. Clarke is kind of screwed.

"Your dad's here too, Neil," he says. "Time to say goodbye to Clarke and Bailey."

Clarke's heart drops a little, but the kids hug her dog, then her legs, and then her dog again, before they race inside, and it's hard to feel down after that. She stretches, looks around for Bailey's leash to pack up, but Bellamy catches her arm. "I was gonna get takeout," he says. "You want to stay?"

Her grin feels a little embarrassing. "Yeah, sounds awesome."

*

Forty minutes later, they're on his couch with beer and Chinese food, sitting just a little closer than they have to. She's warm and happy and his whole house smells like butter and frosting. 

It's the best date she been on in a long time.

Bellamy nudges her foot with his. "Why did you call me?"

"You called me."

"I meant a couple weeks ago. I can't be the only person you know with baby experience. So why me?"

"I thought you'd come," she admits. "You seem like the kind of guy who helps out if he can."

He ducks his head, clearly pleased. "I try to be."

"Why did you call me?"

He grins. "Because I wanted to see you again. Totally selfish."

Clarke flushes. "Good," she says, and leans in to kiss him. Bellamy laughs softly against her lips, slides his hand into her hair, and kisses back. It's slower than she would have expected, warm and easy and like the start of something, and she can still feel his smile.

"I wanted to do this last time, but I thought it might be weird with your friend's mom and all," he murmurs. "And also after like every happy hour for the last year."

"And that would have been weird with coworkers."

"Yeah." He kisses her again, long and easy, and she melts into it. "So, yeah, next time, let's try this without any kids," he says, and she laughs.

"Next time?"

"Yeah." His grin is close to the best thing she's ever seen. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

She considers, and then says, "You." She pauses, slides into his lap. "Coincidentally, that's also what I'm doing tonight."

His laugh is even better than his smile, and Clarke's looking forward to seeing a lot more of both of them.


End file.
